Don't Call Me Romano
by TheAwesomeMe872
Summary: Romano's been having a bad day, and it doesn't help when Spain keeps calling him Romano. He finally loses it and tells Spain that he doesn't like being called Romano. Now Spain's full of all sorts of questions about Romano. Crappy summary is crappy. T for Romano's beautiful language. Spamano and implied GerIta. I wrote this at, like, 2 AM so shut up.


**Argh Spamano.**

**They're my OTP today. I just…**

**I'm not proud of this one. I could have done better.**

**Can I just… not upload this?**

**I haven't done a one-shot in a while, and I haven't done a one-shot for Hetalia yet, soooo…**

**Anyways, I was reading some Hetalia headcanons on Tumblr and I found one that said, 'Romano loves to be called, 'Italy'' and I immediately thought, 'SPAMANO!'**

**Quick fluff to get this idea off my back. I'm sure it's been done before, but I'm too lazy to check.**

**You guys, I've been playing Happy Wheels. That game is so disturbing, I love it~! :'D**

**I've also finished HetaOni. I cried so hard several times. So fucking sad. FANART TIME! :D**

**I'll update TGPSET and The Midnight Game soon! (Well, maybe not The Midnight Game…) Now that I'm done with HetaOni, I've got time to get back to stuff I gotta do!**

**By the way, I'll refer North Italy as Italy Veneziano and South Italy as Italy Romano to avoid confusion between the Vargas' and, well, it helps with the plot.**

**Anyways, enjoy Spamano~!**

**~~~~~APH~~~~~**

Romano groaned loudly. Today was just not his day. Veneziano had gone off to the Potato Bastard's house and Romano was just so worried about him that he spilled the water he had been heating up for pasta all over his arm. Luckily, it wasn't scolding hot yet, but it still hurt.

Although, he'd never tell his brother he was worried about him.

He needed something to cheer him up. But nothing besides tomatoes made him happy. "_I could use some amusement,_" he thought hesitantly, "_so I'll just call over the dumbass_." He picked up his phone and dialed Spain's number. Putting the phone to his ear, he tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the idiot to answer.

"Hola." Romano heard from the other end of the line.

"C-ciao, bastard. I'm bored and, frankly, pissed off. Come entertain me." He said with a little red showing on his face, realizing that could have been taken wrong.

"So you need my cheer-up-charm?" Spain smiled hopefully.

"W-what? Fuck, no! God, I've met tomatoes with higher IQ's than yours! I need you to come hang out with me and rub off some of that happy shit or whatever makes you so damn cheerful despite your god-awful history!"

Spain's happy smile turned into a slightly less happy, yet still way too cheerful for Romano's liking, smile. "Where's Italy?"

Romano cringed at that sentence. Spain didn't mean to make Romano feel bad, but he did. And, truthfully, no one would have known it made him so mad.

"He's the problem! Just get your ass over here before I have to drag you here! I'm hanging up now." Romano slammed the phone down violently. "Who does he think he is? _Cheer-up-charm_, what the hell is wrong with him?"

He looked down at his still red forearm and frowned (more than he already was). It hurt like hell and matched the tomatoes he loved.

It seemed like for-fucking-ever before Romano heard a knock on his door. He got up off his couch and hesitated to open the door, but opened it anyways, to reveal a cheerful-as-usual Spain.

"I'm here~!" Spain exclaimed excitedly.

"Yeah, great." Romano groaned sarcastically.

"Now, what's wrong, Romano? Why is Ita-chan the problem?"

Romano tensed up, and Spain read the atmosphere that he wasn't being much help so far in his visit. "What's wrong, Roma?"

Romano clenched his fists in pure anger. "I… spilled hot water on my arm." He shoved his arm in front of Spain to see.

"Have you taken care of it yet? It's all red!" Spain said, grabbing Romano's arm gently.

"Yeah. I wiped off the water, it's fine. But it still hurts."

"Well, duh, it hurts! Romano, you need cold water on this if you want it to feel better!" Spain smiled and dragged a reluctant Romano into the kitchen. He turned on the faucet as cold water poured down from it. He had to struggle to yank Romano's arm under the water.

Romano squeaked, as it stung for a second, but he could feel the cold water taking the pain directly from his scolded arm. He grumbled some pretty nasty things for a little while as Spain continued to shower his forearm in nice, cool water, ignoring Romano and humming cheerfully.

"Okay, that should about do it for now. It doesn't look like you burnt it too bad, but seriously, what were you thinking not putting it under cold water sooner?" Spain gently wiped Romano's arm with a dry washcloth on the couch. "And why is Italy the other reason you're so grumpy?"

Romano pouted and looked away, muttering some more swear words.

"Romano, I don't mind you swearing, but I hate mumbling." Spain said. Hell, Romano had been swearing since he was just a little kid and Spain was still his boss. "And, Romano-"

That was the last straw. "Don't fucking call me that! God, I prefer you call me Lovino than Romano!"

Spain's eyes widened a little at Romano's outburst. Said Italian turned his face away from Spain to hide himself.

"I'm Italia, too… so, why is my fratello the only fucking one called Italy? It's just… it's not fair… it's not fucking fair." He sniffled a little, as he felt small drops of water spill down his face. "I'm Italia… I'm Italia, too… damn it, I'm Italy. I-it's not Veneziano's fault, but… damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it…" He bit his bottom lip to keep those god-awful sob sounds from escaping his mouth. Sure, he'll tear up, but he'll be damned before he cries in front of Spain.

Much to Romano's surprise, he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and another arm sling across his chest.

He looked over at Spain, or tried to, but was only met with a view of Spain's neck. Damn, he forgot that tomato bastard was taller than him when he actually sat up straight.

"Romano, it's so we don't get the two of you confused-" Spain said gently.

"But do you realize what Romano means in Italian? It means, '_of Rome!_' I'm nothing like Grandpa Rome! I can't draw or paint or clean or trade or anything! I don't even _look_ like Grandpa." He crossed his arms.

Spain smiled gently. "You're right. You can't clean or draw to save your life. Your trading skills suck and you're basically just a lump of mass."

"Gee, thanks. Bastard." Romano scoffed.

"But, that doesn't mean you're not Italy. After all, _you're_ the oldest. We call you Romano to avoid confusing you with your brother."

"It'd be better, wouldn't it?"

"Hm?"

Romano looked away from Spain again. "It'd be better… if I just didn't exist. I don't mean the southern part of Italy. But I mean… me. If my brother just represented us both. There'd be no confusion and one Italy."

"You know what you two Italys got from Ancient Rome? Ita-chan got his carefree, artsy side. But you know what you got?"

"Nothing."

"No, you got his strength."

"No I didn't. I'm just as wimpy as my brother."

"Not true. You got the inner strength. Ital- er, Veneziano is so carefree and polite, it actually plays to his disadvantage sometimes. But you, no, you fight back. _That's_ what you got from Rome. Italy Romano."

"Spain… you damn bastard. I hate you so much."

"Oh, I see. So you like when you're called Italy?" Spain smirked.

"Sh-shut up."

"Italy." Spain put his face slightly closer to Romano's.

"Fuck you." Romano said as he felt his face heat up.

"Italy." Slightly closer.

"Go die, idiota." Romano's face got slightly redder each time Spain said his name.

"Italy." His face was too close for Romano to handle.

"Go away."

"Why do you hate me, Italy Romano?"

Romano tried to push Spain away, but he just couldn't. "I never said I hated you."

"I'll ignore how much of a lie that statement is. Then how _do_ you feel about me?"

"You're annoying."

"Okay."

"You're stupid. Really, _really_ stupid."

"And?"

"And too happy all the time."

"Okay."

"But I don't hate you… I know it may seem that way, but I don't."

"And?"

"That's it, bastard."

"No it isn't. You've got more to say."

"No I don't." Romano crossed his arms defensively.

"Well then don't say anything. Do something-"

Romano snapped his head around quickly and wrapped his arms around Spain's shoulders.

"Romano?"

"Don't call me that, douche bag." Romano muffled.

Spain smiled and ruffled Romano's hair. He could hear Romano protesting and swearing at him, but he didn't really care.

"Damn it, I hate you. I mean, I don't hate you but I also hate you because you're stupid and too happy and…" Romano rambled on as Spain just continued to look over him. "-and you smell like churros all the time and your tomatoes aren't nearly as good as Italian tomatoes and-"

"Italy Romano."

"What?" Romano snapped, looking up at Spain, when he decided to go bold (for once) and push his face to Spain's.

"Mph!" Spain muffled, shocked that the mean, cruel, life-hating Romano… South Italy… Lovino Vargas… just kissed him? Yup, he was pretty sure about that. And if that wasn't shocking enough, the diehard male Catholic… was kissing another man. That must have taken a lot of strength from him. But… it was obviously willing. Spain loosened up a bit and decided. He'd show Romano _exactly_ what the country of passion was capable of.

Spain ran his hands around Romano's waist and entrapped his back, pulling the younger man closer to him.

He was disappointed to find the only response from Romano he got was a small sigh, that probably only meant he needed air. Spain sadly pulled back, and Romano gasped in a little, just barely opening his eyes to see Spain.

"Ti amo… idiota." Romano grumbled.

Spain chuckled. "Te amo, mi tomate pequeño." Spain said, referring to Romano's red face.

"Shut up."

"Gladly." Spain leaned forward once more and kissed Romano again, this time determined to get some response from Romano.

Spain waited until Romano's eyes closed to open his own and search for some sign. Romano did nothing but kiss back. Spain found that unacceptable and decided to move his hands up to the Italians hair and run his fingers through it. He smiled when he got a small, quiet, faint moan from Romano.

It was when Spain accidentally ran his hand through Romano's forbidden curl that he got a loud moan-groan crossbreed from Romano. Furious and red, Romano pulled back, also pushing Spain as hard as he could. "What the holy hell was that for?" He exclaimed.

"W-what?" Spain asked. He had thought he just touched another regular piece of hair.

"Why'd you touch my damn curl? Didn't you learn your lesson enough when I was a bambino? Or do you need me to head-butt you again to get the picture?"

"Why is that curl so sensitive?"

"Look at you with all the damn questions today!"

"Little Romano's just cranky because he's a Catholic who kissed a boy." Spain teased.

"Shut up! I was going to hell anyways! And I may as well not hide it anymore. Now why did you pull my curl?"

"I'll answer you when you answer me."

"I asked you first."

"I'm older than you."

"... damn…" Romano swore under his breath. "Alright, alright, fine. It's my… um…" His voice trailed off.

"What? Say again?"

"It's my… ero…"

"Speak up, Italy Romano."

Romano blushed at the name. "It's my… it's my erogenous… zone… bastard."

Spain immediately petrified. And he had touched it so often, even when Romano was just a kid.

"Oh. Well, this is awkward." Spain chucked as he rubbed his neck nervously.

"Shut up, it's damn embarrassing."

"It's adorable~!"

"What?"

"Your face gets all red and you squirm! You're just so cute, Roma!"

"Shut up! If you want cute, go talk to my brother."

"I think you're just as adorable, if not cuter."

"Shut up, bastard. Just…" Romano began to mumble some incomprehensible stuff.

"What?" Spain asked. "Say again."

"I said, 'just don't touch my curl again and we can go back to…'"

"To… this?" Spain smiled and leaned in again.

Romano could tell he wasn't going to be called Romano anymore, at least not by one person.

**~~~~~APH~~~~~**

**I hate ending stuff. Why? Because I suck at it.**

**I just wanted to end this. I don't even want to upload this. It's so hard to make such a tsundere like Romano not as tsundere without going OOC.**

_**And**_** I'm pretty sure I suck at writing both Spain and Romano.**

**I hate myself. OTL**

**Anyways, reviews are love (although I don't expect any love for this piece of shit.)**

**Hasta la pasta~!**


End file.
